


The Power of Goodbye

by Sonny



Series: A Different Corner [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person, POV Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-09
Updated: 2003-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic takes place in PRESENT TIME, following the TV Show... IF Brian/Michael had become a couple... ; Michael is ill, having a bad dream of not having Brian in his life, until later on when they are in their 30s (BOOK 1). Brian has come home from a special dinner with Mel & Linds (a request from Michael) and tries to take care of a sick Michael - Brian contemplates/day dreams what life would be like without Michael in it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is BOOK 2 in a trilogy of fics exploring WHAT IF Brian/Michael had met in different ways - turned "different corners", would they have met?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
 _ **"Real love stories never have an ending"**_  
 **-By Anonymous**

~*~  
 _ **"Take me back in time  
Maybe I can forget  
Turned a different corner  
And we never would have met  
Would you care?"**_  
- **By George Michael** from **_"A Different Corner"_**  
~*~

**_The Power Of Good-Bye_ **   
**written by Madonna and Rick Nowels**   
**Your heart is not open so I must go**   
**The spell has been broken, I loved you so**   
**Freedom comes when you learn to let go**   
**Creation comes when you learn to say no**

 **You were my lesson I had to learn**   
**I was your fortress you had to burn**   
**Pain is a warning that something's wrong**   
**I pray to God that it won't be long**   
**Do ya wanna go higher?**

 ** Chorus: **   
**There's nothing left to try**   
**There's no place left to hide**   
**There's no greater power**   
**Than the power of good-bye**

 **Your heart is not open so I must go**   
**The spell has been broken, I loved you so**   
**You were my lesson I had to learn**   
**I was your fortress**

 ** Chorus2: **   
**There's nothing left to lose**   
**There's no more heart to bruise**   
**There's no greater power**   
**Than the power of good-bye**

 **Learn to say good-bye**  
 **I yearn to say good-bye**  
~*~

  
Michael deciphered the slide of the front door like he’d been hearing, night after night, for the past three months. He never realized how loud the sounds were until times like these. Laying snuggled, in their huge king-sized bed... sick as a dog... and horny from another dream about Brian Kinney.

Keys jangled as the door slid open, and then back, as it shut closed. Bolt lock was thrown with a heavy thud. Tiny, jamming sounds followed by beeps and clicks explained that the security code was being set. The quiet sniffles and hushed coughing, as the far away throat was cleared, made Michael turn his head on the pillow he buried his face in hours ago. Patiently, he waited, listening to the normal ritual displayed in the small kitchenette. Keys plopped, while a wallet hit the clanging metal pile as they all landed on the top of the counter. There was a soft swish as a leather jacket shimmied down long, naked willowy arms and swept through the air to land on a nearby dining chair.

Opening his eyes, at half mast, Michael rolled his aching body completely over. He could see the faint shadowy shape outlined, as a dark figure moved about the rest of the apartment. In the few minutes that passed, the fridge opened, causing glass bottles, in the doorway shelves, to clang against each other. Sighing deeply, Michael climbed out of bed to place his bare feet in the readily available slippers. Dragging the comforter around his shivering frame, Michael padded across the blackened bedroom interior toward the faint light emitting from the front portion of the loft.

Brian was particularly intrigued by some items on the door of the freezer as he fingered his way inside. His muscular back hunched over, he peered for a closer look, unable to make a decision. Michael was slightly curious to what was so interesting, causing Brian to lose his hearing. The shit, and stuff, magnetized to the door had been around for years. Brian used his index finger to caress some images in the photos. Taking the dual steps at a slow pace, making sure he didn’t defy gravity, Michael walked over toward the breakfast bar as he spoke up. “So! How’d it go?”

Literally thrown back on the kitchen counter behind him, Brian was scared out of his wits by Michael’s shocking disturbance. Like the cat with the canary in his mouth. “Jesus, Mikey! What the fuck!? I thought you’d still be asleep.”

“Yeah, well... I was.” Michael’s slippered feet scuffed along the hardwood flooring to one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “I was sleeping, about twenty minutes after you left. NyQuil works well these days. I was having a very interesting, thrilling dream about us, I must say. We met under different circumstances... things tore us apart... but brought us back together, like they’re supposed to. Hey, I’ll tell you ‘bout it later. You going to answer my question?” Michael folded his arms, along the bar counter top, resting his weary head on a good spot of gathered comforter.

Leaning back on the counter, Brian took a swift gulp of the guava juice he’d snagged. “Sure... eventually. Like I said, I thought you’d be dead to the world, when I came home. I had no plan to tell you anything... until tomorrow. Maybe in the morning, if you were feeling up to talking.”

Michael shrugged, feeling a piece of the comforter fall away from his body, exposing the draft inside the loft. Strange, he thought Brian had turned the heat up before he left. “Hey, I’m up now. So let’s assume I damn sure won’t ever go back to sleep, unless we talk about what needs to be discussed.”

“Which would be...?” Brian teased about the topic they’d conversed about for more then a month. His smirk disappeared, once he saw Michael’s dead pan face, not taking the “joke” well. “You want the short version... or the long one?”

“Both... please.” Michael sneezed, covering his entire face, momentarily stuffed up. He gave himself plenty of time to clear the fogginess surrounding his head, then signaled for Brian to continue.

“Bless you.”

“Aggh!” Michael cleared his throat, rubbing a hidden Kleenex over his runny nose. “Dhanks! Okay... spill!”

Brian walked around the kitchen bar, taking the empty stool beside Michael. Placing the flat of his palm against Michael’s sweaty skin, Brian sent that same hand, backwards, down the temple and along the side of a flushed cheek. Silently he “tsked” in a mother-hen fashion at his best friend, and lover’s, foolish attempts to ignore the symptoms. “You’re fuckin’ burnin’ up, Mikey!” Brian tugged at the comforter to pull the material away from Michael’s upper chest. He got a better view, and a clearer way to listen, to the shallow lung sounds. “How do these puppies feel?” Brian cupped the underside of Michael breastbone, showing him to take in a few deep breaths.

“Like Fat Marley’s perched on my chest... and she won’t leave, until she can fix me up with a woman she knows will be *perfect* for me.” Michael tried not to giggle at the warm, ticklish hands over his protruding nipples. Christ! Brian hadn’t touched him, like this, in weeks. Michael swat at Brian’s wrists to stop tempting him with those loving, attentive hands on his moist heated skin. Being deprived of this kind of gentle touch would drive Michael bonkers, knowing they wouldn’t follow through on the complete action. “Stop! You’re avoiding my question.”

Brian’s intense, darkening hazel gaze flew over Michael’s reddening face as he drew in a breath of such calmness. He thought, for sure, he’d burst in a few seconds. “OH? Am I? So sorry. I’m getting a bit distracted by these wonderful sounds of your spastic breathing. If I didn’t know you well, I’d think you were trying to turn me on. Besides...” Brian plopped off the stool. “I’ve decided to hold my reply hostage until you get back in bed.”

“And if I wasn’t so sick, I’d take that as an attempt to turn ME on!” The noises coming out of Michael’s throat made it seem as if he was doing a terrible impersonation of Marlon Brando’s, The Godfather. “Where’re you sleepin’ tonight?”

“Where are your inhalers?”

“I asked you first.”

“I believe that my question has more bearing on your Life or Death, Michael.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Michael shot his head back, gesturing in the direction of their bedroom. “Night stand ... prick.” He vocalized the last word under his breath.

“Very nice. Very adult. I always thought it was my ‘prick-ness’ that you loved.” Brian and Michael shared in a simulated laugh. Hardy-Har-Har!... they mimicked in unison “I’ll let that remark pass, Michael. Under the assumption that you’re doped up on over-the-counter meds. Not of sound mind. Come on ... I’m taking you back to bed.” Brian held out a hand, palm side up.

“Answer my question, Brian.”

“Do it.”

“I repeat ... answer the damn question!” Michael attempted to yell, through fits of breathing.

“On the fuckin’ couch... where I’ve been the last two nights! Now, will you take my fuckin’ hand already!” Brian hadn’t meant to sound angry, but this display of stubborn will was wearing thin.

Michael climbed down from his stool, intent on moving the opposite direction, away from Brian’s outreaching hand, entering the living room. “Bring my pillow, too ... will ya?!”

“Shit!” Brian watched the tiny hulk of comforter, about the same size and shape of Michael, wobble along the wood floor, floating toward the couch. “Whatever you say, dah-ling!” He sing-songed his voice, exaggerating his sarcasm. Brian moved to Michael’s side of the bed, reaching for the plush pillow encased with Michael’s fresh scent. Finding the inhalers in the top drawer, he shoved the pillow under his arm. Brian came through the second entryway, heading into the living room. “I’m gonna warn you, Novotny... you even sniffle, much less sneeze, in my general direction ... I am kickin’ your bubble butt, takin’ you back to bed. By force, if I have to. Here!” The pillow was thrown to hit Michael squarely in the face. Brian plopped down on the glass coffee table, facing Michael, as he shook each separate cannister. He eyeballed Michael’s shameful, hidden glances, coming from under the drooping lids. “I should punish you severely for this.”

“I’m too cute, and adorable, to mess with ... besides, you love me too much to be that cruel.” The words were pouring out of Michael’s drying lips, sounding strangled and small. “I’ve missed you, Bri.”

Brian paused in the steps of preparation, with the inhalers, to stare at the sweet-natured face, looking so mournful. God, his heartbeat sped up a pace or two. Damn! He was such a sucker for that “puppy-dog” look. “I know. Think this is any easier for me? Knowing that... knowing how important these are...” He held up the inhalers. “... is no fucking joke! Open up, champ!” Once Brian blasted the first stream of air into Michael’s tightening lungs, those doe-soft eyes shut at the blessed relief, tears pooled, and fell, of their own will.

“SHITFIRE! That burns!” Michael was able to say, before he broke into long coughing fits.

“You know better then to wait until you’re on your last breath, before you give yourself a treatment. How long have you and I been doin’ this? Haven’t you learned your lesson, yet?” Though Brian was berating Michael for his casual oversight to his frail health, Brian was never unaware of Michael’s condition. He knew how to watch for signs of distress. “Again?” Michael was containing his breathing, while he slowly nodded his approval for a second round. Brian performed the treatment, like a seasoned veteran.

Michael sighed heavily, finally being able to take the breaths he needed to function. The hole was widening in his trachea, as he felt his lungs expanding with each intake. “Thanks.”

“Don’t make me have to call your mother, you asshole! I’d like for her to know that I am capable of taking care of you... in sickness, as well as in health. She still hasn’t finished chewing me a new one, for the last time you were ill.” Brian was beginning to relax, noticing that Michael was improving under his care.

Michael tried to move forward, placing a tender hand on Brian’s knee. “That wasn’t your fault. You were away.”

“But I called you every night. How was I to know if you never said a word? I knew something was peculiar, but you kept telling me not to worry.” Seeing the rosiness return to Michael’s face, Brian reached out a hand to gently sculpt the bone structure he knew well.

Michael allowed his head to fall against Brian’s gentleness. He adored being pampered, given attention like this. Michael had been missing their closeness these past few nights. “It wasn’t important then, like it still isn’t now.”

“Oh, really? Being hospitalized for pneumonia, last year, was of no importance? How can you be so blase about yourself? You must know that without you ... I ...” Something stopped Brian from moving on with his thought, his words hung in the air. He was reliving the moment of Debbie’s frantic call to him, thousands of miles away ... stuck in a multi-million dollar meeting. Michael had been rushed to the hospital, after passing out from a night of no sleep, no food and too much cheap cough medicine. Brian hated when Michael tried to belittle his importance, sacrificing moments in his life for others’ benefit. “... never mind.” He shook his head clear to revert back to their first topic of conversation. “Now, you said something about wanting both versions ...”

Placing the pillow flat against his chest, Michael opened the comforter, exposing his thinly covered body to the open air. Between feeling hot, and cold, at the same time, Michael had chosen to wear thick, plaid pajama bottoms with a light grey, cotton T-shirt. “Come here ...” At Brian’s hesitation, Michael made a peaceful gesture of simply wanting to hold Brian. That was all ... nothing more. “Please.” Michael watched Brian drop to his knees on the plush white carpet. He scooted his way into Michael’s embrace. Michael gathered the cooling body into the erratically heated world of blanket and man. The pillow was the barrier that kept them from touching flesh to flesh. Brian fell into the sheltering folds of Michael’s love and the sweet, tender caresses. God! They both had been deprived of this kind of contact for much too long. Their bodies reacted the only way they knew how, seeming to want the closeness intensified.

Brian turned his face into the pillow’s delicately textured cover, inhaling the familiar scent of his best friend, and favorite bed partner. Sighing in contentment, Brian adjusted his body, while remaining against the pillow, arms wrapped around Michael’s waist and inside the comforter. “I’ll begin with the short version. Tell you how they answered me. Then maybe I’ll finish with the long version to help answer some of your curiosity. Sound good?”

“As long as I can hold you like this, while you tell me... feel you supporting me... I’ll be able to listen to anything you have to say.” Michael gripped Brian tighter, bringing out his true emotions for him. A man he’d known most his life and would die for... in a heartbeat.

Hearing those selfless words echoing in his fragile chest, Brian lifted his head to look at Michael directly in the eyes. Whatever was going to be said was honest and true, so ... could the “forgiveness” start now? “I do, you know. I’ve believed in you, from the beginning. I always have. I’ve been there, with you, in everything you did. This was no exception. I told you I would go to this dinner, representing you. I took the task, seriously, as a great endeavor, in respect to you. I’d be talking for you, representing your side of the dilemma ... which is quickly becoming ‘ours’. I told you, if you pestered me enough, I’d be your champion.” One hand came out of hibernation to run a thumb over Michael’s cheek. “The offer was placed on the table ... they were speechless. At first, they could barely look at me. A few uncomfortable seconds later, I think they began to see I wasn’t joking. I was dead serious. They laughed at some awkward moments, trying to ask questions they thought would be relevant. For a minute or two, I noticed that they might actually have said a resounding ‘yes’. We had an extraordinary long discussion that went on after Gus went to bed. Before that, we got slightly sidetracked as Gus wanted his Daddy to read him to sleep.” Brian glanced at Michael, who slowly nodded his head, in approval to the precious time given to Gus. Brian swallowed the heavy lump in his throat, continuing his explanation. “Never got a cool denial, or any acceptance from them. All they wanted to tell me was that they would need some time to mull the idea around. A week, perhaps. I told them to hold an invite for us for next Sunday’s dinner.” Brian hoped that Michael thought he had handled the situation fairly decently. “Was that okay?” He watched Michael drop his head slightly, he reached out to pick up the serenely beautiful face by the chin. “Michael?”

Michael kept his eyes shut, only nodding in response. He reopened to a sad gaze, replying in sorrow. “They hate me, don’t they?”

“They do not! What in the hell gave you that idea?”

“Please, Brian! I don’t need to have the writing on the wall pointed out to me. They’ve so much as told us an emphatic N-O, by their decision to chose NOT to decide. I hear them loud and clear. They want us to think this time is for them, but it’s actually for us. To sit, fret and worry, pondering the possibility that the delay is actually being used for them to hold back the answer they’ve already made! God! I’m so fuckin’ embarrassed!” Michael allowed his hot, perspiring forehead to fall beyond the pillow barrier to hit Brian’s chest. “Deep inside, I knew this was a terrible idea.” He tried to bury his shame within Brian’s clasp.

Brian couldn’t stand Michael doing this to himself. He climbed up beside Michael, pulling and tugging at the limp, flexible body to fit them in a more comfortable position on the couch. Laying on his back, lengthwise, Brian tucked the Michael cocoon, of comforter and man, in between the spread of his jean clad thighs. Michael relaxed back against the freedom of letting Brian ease his worries. Brian placed a tender kiss to the crown of Michael’s head, where he was sporting the worst case of dampened bed-head. On Michael, the look was adorable.

No matter what Brian could do to assuage his guilt, kissing away the pain, or caressing, the shivering skin, Michael couldn’t shake the shitty feeling coming over him. Was there an empty closet to crawl into, or a handy boulder to hide under? The answer he’d been anticipating, all day, hadn’t even been the answer he was expecting. He definitely knew that this wasn’t Brian’s fault. Michel wished he could be like Brian, with that cocky confidence and self-assured ability to not allow the world, and the idiots in it, to bother him.

Brian tugged Michael up his frame, leveling his lips to Michael’s ear lobe. “I want you to stop berating yourself ... right now.”

“You told me to expect the worst. Isn’t this it? You were right!”

“When have you ever listened to anything I had to say? Hey ... come on ...” Brian shook Michael by the shoulders, which turned from jarring touch to sensual massaging. “Don’t they say that, ‘Nothing is better then having your expectations declined?’? Would you rather know now ... or be able to gather yourself together, when you listen to their reply?”

“That’s a terrible way to try and make me feel better.”

“Can’t you find any bright spot in this?”

“I don’t know.” Michael crouched lower, sinking deeper between Brian’s legs, hanging arms over the warm thighs at his side. During the gentle massage, Michael was slowly growing pliable as molten Jello. “I had only thought that, with Gus growing older ... well, I wondered if they had ever thought about having another child. Maybe discussed the possibility, a time or two.” Michael slowly wiped a hand over his perspiring face. “Jesus! I’m a fuckin’ fruitcake! Assured that anyone would think twice about this ridiculous ...”

“Stop hating yourself! So the fucking word got out! They know. Let it be. Allow them this time. It’s a lot to take in, Mikey. Not something any of us can walk into so blindly. You managed to change my tune about the whole deal. That’s gotta mean a whole helluva lot. I think we have one problem, though. When I mentioned the offer, I don’t think they had you in mind as the mad scientist of the idea. That you would so desperately want, need, to be the Daddy this time.”

“Figures. You’re the popular one. Beautiful... smart... and the perfect specimen of manhood. Why the hell wouldn’t they want YOU again?” Michael went to use the entire comforter to cover his face. “Shit! Don’t even answer that!”

“Jesus! Don’t fuckin’ patronize me, Michael! I get enough of that outside this loft. I don’t need it at home, as well. Gus is enough for me, thank you. I’ll gladly toss the responsibility your way ... and with any future children.” Brian’s hands rubbed up, and down, Michael’s clenching forearms and biceps.

“Gosh! Passing the torch are we? Thanks. I’m flattered.” Michael tried to turn his face into the back cushions of the couch. “Fuck! How can I ever face them again?”

“Easily. Don’t let them see that they’ve truly done a thing. They’re women, despite being lesbians. Prone to long bouts of thought and clarification. We probably won’t have a clear decision even by next Sunday. They could change their minds on a dime. It’s all in how you react around them. Don’t trust them.”

“Brian, your best friend is a lesbian. How can you say that?”

“I was talking about the Other One. Co-Muncher, Melanie Marcus, uber-dyke of the upwardly mobile urban professional persuasion.”

Michael loved it when Brian went off on one of his tangents. He could feel the vibrations, of the words, through his back to his chest. Michael shuffled to move, pushing his face against Brian’s Adam’s Apple. “Shit! I feel like dying. Wait ... I think I might be dead.” He moved a hidden arm about to check for a pulse.

“Not possible. You still feel warm to me.” Brian grabbed for Michael’s hands, within the spread of his own long appendages. He neatly wrapped their arms, double-time, about Michael’s stomach and abdomen as Michael’s breathing, still labored, began to fall in an even rhythm. “Does your stomach hurt anymore?” Brian recalled hearing sounds of Michael retching over the commode, before he left for the dinner with Lindsay and Melanie. He sneaked one palm underneath the bulge of comforter, wandering off toward Michael’s flat, bare midriff. The T-shirt had managed to run up the smooth chest as they twisted, and turned, to find a position to lay in. Brian traced the quivering flesh with the most delicate of whispery touches.

Falling into the loving, sexual touches given by Brian, Michael closed his eyes to the glorious sensations. Oh, Shit! He should find his voice, before he completely lost his mind. “Nah, I think that part of my sickness has passed. Not before I had to sacrifice half of one lung, my pancreas and everything I had eaten since 1983. I heated up some of Ma’s chicken soup. Kinda tastey ...and I wolfed down about six, or seven, Saltines. Aren’t you proud?” Michael sank further into Brian’s embrace, he felt the chuckling rumble the abdomen he was laying on. He didn’t dare reopen his eyes. He began to feel safe, secure, in the love being given by the tender care Brian was supplying. The stray fingers barely went to the elastic waistband of the pajama bottoms. Damn it!

As if the sharp mind connected to the well-manicured hand rethought the gradual procession down Michael’s flesh, toward the naked and naughty parts, Brian brought his hand back up, with its partner, to keep massaging the safer areas. This swift maneuver turned into a nice, quaint shoulder rub. “Yeah. I didn’t eat much at the Lezzie’s, either.”

“Wha-? Why not?” Michael pushed himself on his weakening elbow, glancing at Brian directly in the face. “Don’t tell me those ‘sympathetic’ pains you were feeling, a few days ago, are back?” Michael could feel his strength disappearing. He moved on his side, back against the couch cushions, but still between Brian’s legs.

“No. I think my nerves were shot.”

“Bullshit!”

“Fuck you, Michael! You put me in an extremely awkward, stressful situation. I didn’t want to go without you. I don’t like being around them... alone... without you. They only imagine I’m halfway kicking you out of my bed...or my life... ready to move on to the next ‘trick’. They only invite me over to make sure I do right by you. Honestly, you don’t realize how much they like you, want you to be happy. It’s me they despise.” Brian pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling an ache rising in his head. “I shouldn’t have had so much wine.” He moved to place an arm across his eyes, blocking out the harsh lights. His head fell back, along the plush arm of the couch.

“On a freakin’ empty stomach!? Shit!! No wonder you feel so bad. What the hell were you thinking?!”

Under his arm, Brian peered at Michael’s enraged face. His own fierce reprimand was on the tip of his tongue. “Please... don’t talk so loudly. I‘ve had enough, to deal with tonight, without you yelling at me, as well. So, forgive me ... I was worried about you, Michael! You fuckin’ prick!” Brian’s raised tone drew his face into a paleness that seemed to speak of his growing headache. He wiped both hands over his tired features. “I wanted to be here. With you. Taking care of you. Making sure you were all right. I couldn’t concentrate on the dinner, or much of the conversation. You preoccupied my mind. I didn’t want to leave you... have my cell go off... telling me you were being taken to the hospital... or something....”

“Aw, Bri... I didn’t mean to... look, you don’t need to feel like you have to babysit me. Especially when I get like this. I promise you, sincerely, that if I ever felt like I did last year... I’d tell you.” Michael was leaning more on Brian’s chest to gain access in the general area of the face, hoping to snag a good kiss, or two. Gosh! He needed one right about now!

Knowing that Michael would take the kind rejection, in good confidence, Brian sent a palm to smoosh Michael’s face, holding back his features from coming any closer. “Not. On. The. Lips. Remember? Your ass... my foot? I mean it!”

Michael pouted against the hand pushing his face, then decided to pass the affection on the nearest piece of skin. Kissing the flesh offered to his lips, Michael moved his face, the palm ended up cupping his cheek. “Hey, do you really believe that they’d put some thought into the offer?”

“Be pleased they never said ‘no’.”

“But they didn’t say... a thing. What satisfaction can I find in that?”

“Where’s the fuckin’ optimism you showed a few days ago? Weren’t you the one pushing me to keep the date with the Lezzies?”

“I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess. I get some freak thrill out of disappointments. See, using you, as an example, is unfair. You love me. There’s bias there. I could tell you the moon was made out of cheese...you’d have no doubt that I might be right. Mel and Linds ... they’ve tolerated me, because I’m a permanent fixture in your life... seeing me only on occasion.”

Placing his other hand on Michael’s exposed cheek, Brian pulled Michael up his chest so their eyes could mesh at a tiny distance. Other body parts, as well, were in alignment. “Without knowing your own powers of persuasion, Michael, you’ve made them fall in love with you ... like you did with me.” He trailed his thumb around the full lips of Michael’s tempting mouth.

“Liar. You just wanna avoid sounding like some sappy Hallmark card, by admitting you fell for me first, in junior high. On those fateful stairs. Me... running up, late for class... you... running down, late for Jack picking you up. We crashed into each other... and we haven’t been the same since. You’ve given me a chances to explore other relationships, until you could claim me as your very own. I haven’t forced you to do one thing, that hasn’t been thought up in your perverted little mind to begin with.”

“If I agree, that what you’ve stated is true ... I’m sorry ... I have no recourse, but to rip off all your clothes and fuck you into next week. But you see ... you’re sick ... and I’m being a very well behaved boy scout by keeping you healthy.”

“You’re not the sick-ee, here, Brian ... I am.”

“How do you know for sure? You know the worst thing you can do to an ill person? Bring in a healthy one. Who knows how many germs are crawling all over me. Plus, I just love saying shit like that in order to get a reaction not to miss.”

“Prick!” Michael reached out to twist a protruding nipple through Brian’s shirt.

“Ow-ch! Tease!” Brian yanked Michael closer, trailing his puckering mouth along the side of Michael’s face. Ending up at his ear lobe, Brian bit, suckled and whispered sweet nothings inside.

“Yeah ... that’s me all right.” Suddenly, Michael was beginning to feel exhaustion overwhelm him. The depravity of sleep was wearing him out. His moist forehead fell on Brian’s shoulder. He tucked his warm, reddening face into the exposed neck. Michael felt Brian’s hand settle below his hairline, petting the mop of damp hair, rubbing the shaved portion.

Jesus, Michael! You’re like a fuckin’ hot water bottle!” Brian used the hand already touching Michael to feel the flushed face. “What was your temp the last time you took it?”

The last of Michael’s energy had been spent. He decreed that if Brian would shut up, he could very well fall asleep, in no seconds flat. “I dunno.” The puny shoulders went up, then down, in shrug mode. “Hun’red an’sumthin’.”

“OH! HELL! NO!!” Brian uncurled his body from under Michael’s. Christ on a crutch! He should have checked earlier! Stomping off in the direction of the bathroom, Brian headed toward the medicine cabinet. “Where the hell is the thermometer, Michael?!”

Somewhat shocked by Brian’s irritation, Michael rested his throbbing head along the couch arm, that was still warm from Brian. “Damn!” He had to clear his throat. “Check the night stand. There’s an empty glass there ...” He heard the faucet run in the bathroom, rolling over to eyeball Brian’s frantic pacing as he gathered a collection of items. Brian settled on his bended knees, at Michael’s side, placing a large basin of water on the coffee table. A washcloth was spread over the edge of the bowl and a hand towel was across Brian’s bare shoulder. While in the bathroom, he must have found time to change out of his clothes. Brian was now in a black tank with grey sweat pants. God! He looked scrumptious when he was pissed! And man, had Michael done a whopper on him!

“Lift up.” Brian brought more pillows from the bed and used Michael’s, plus the others, to build up a resting niche for Michael to relax on. Michael was angled enough to allow the mucus in his lungs to have somewhere to go, other then laying in the bruised, and battered, cavity. “Open.” Brian uncapped a small digital thermometer, intending to find any place to stick the object, even if Michael refused by mouth. He didn’t care any longer about having Michael’s cooperation.

Fearing the wrath of Kinney, Michael opened his mouth, clamping down on the tip of the temperature gauge. He stared intently at the determination, in Brian, to take care of him. Damn! He was beginning to feel crummy. Somehow, though, Michael knew it was all about last year’s illness, that Brian felt guilt over. When he’d thought Michael was dying. That his hands had been tied a million miles away. Brian had badly wanted to be with Michael, right by his side. Of course, Debbie hadn’t been much help. She had held Brian solely responsible for Michael ending up as bad as he’d been. Actually, it had been Michael’s fault. Telling that to his Ma was like saying “I’m sorry” after you shot someone. Michael felt small and selfish, just like he had months ago. Brian deserved the benefit of doubt. “Imsorruh.” Michael tried to voice his apology, around his pinched lips.

“Shut up.” Brian swiftly stood to move into the kitchen. Using the hand towel, he placed ice cubes inside to carry over to the hot water in the bowl. The plan was to use the water, at a lukewarm temp, in order to bring down Michael’s high temperature. Each cube plopped in, one by one, as a tiny hissing sound emitted, dissolving quickly. A shrill beeping noise erupted, which made Brian aware that he could find out if Michael was lying or telling him the truth. Brian hadn’t looked at Michael once as he’d begun his set up process. He was too frustrated. As he went for the gauge, hanging out of Michael’s mouth, he noticed that those all too familiar lips had formed a devilish grin. Holding his hand out, Brian moved to sit on the coffee table, facing Michael. “Come on ... fork it over, little man.” A slight head shake told Brian that wasn’t in the foreseeable future. “Now, Mikey ... or in the next few minutes I will wrestle you to the floor and retake your temperature, but it won’t be orally, this time.” Brian hoped there was enough anger behind his words to strike fear.

“You’re no fun.” Michael gave Brian the gauge, like a pouting child. “Don’t get pissy, Bri. Remember, I’m the sick one.” He knew the numbers weren’t good.

Looking at the LCD screen, displaying the temperature, Brian glanced over at Michael, trying to find a way NOT to let his jaw fall to the floor. “One ... hundred ... and four ... point two!? What the fuck were you hoping to prove?! Being a man?! Shit, Michael!” Brian rubbed a weary hand over his face. He’d known leaving Michael alone wouldn’t be a good idea ... and he hated always being right. “You are now, officially, under my care for the next forty-eight hours! Or however long this takes to get your temp to something resembling normal. Why the hell aren’t you hallucinating ... or laughin’ your ass off on some stupid, trippy cosmic fantasy world?”

“I’m used to getting this sick every year. I’ve just been able to hide it better.”

“So ... what? You think you have some kind of ‘rep’ to protect?” Brian stood up, using the thermometer as a pointer. “I want ... you ... naked ... under that comforter ... in the next ten seconds ... starting ... NOW!” He stepped away to bring over some large bath towels to help sponge bathe Michael on.

“Oh ... Jesus! If only that meant something entirely different ...”  


**  
~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
Brian was having a fitful sleep, waking himself up nearly every hour to make sure Michael was still breathing regularly. Around three-thirty, in the morning, they had both fallen asleep after Michael’s fever finally broke. Brian was curled up, on the floor, tucked into his body, under the light blanket off the couch. He was figuring this might be a good time to take Michael, and himself, back to their bed. Shaking his exhausted, aching and cramped body awake, Brian stood to reach down, lifting the entire cocoon of Michael and comforter into his arms with a few pillows hanging off his fingers.

Michael woke up, still half asleep, to latch an arm about Brian’s neck as extra leverage. He mumbled incoherent words as he tucked his perspiring face under Brian’s chin. He felt the protective move of Brian securing his chin on Michael’s left temple.

Brian could make out every other word, but pretty much got the jist of what Michael was trying to say. His rambling was just another attempt at an apology, a tiny “Thank you” which was soon followed by the clear “Love you, Bri.” His response was only to squeeze Michael more tightly in his clasp. Brian paced over to the king-sized mattress that Michael had occupied for a majority of them living together in Brian’s loft. Usually they ended up meeting in the middle, so there was truly no definitive decision on which side of the bed was whose. He gently plopped the pillows, on the floor, at his feet, then put a knee on the mattress to set his delicate, precious package down. Brian unwrapped, and slid, his arms from underneath Michael, hoping to be free, but Michael wasn’t releasing his neck. Even in sleep, the small man showed unfettered strength. Brian had to release a tiny chuckle as he almost choked. He leaned down to rub his cheek against Michael’s right temple, whispering a soft request. “Mikey ...let me go. Don’t worry ... I’m gonna come back.”

Michael reluctantly followed the simple order, falling back to bounce on the springy mattress. “ ‘Kay ...whatimesit?” His body fell on the rest of the pillows behind his head as he tucked a fist under his left cheek.

Brian kept his body hovering over Michael as he watched his bed partner wiggle and shuffle to rest his flexible frame to face the side where Brian would soon crawl onto. He glanced up at the bedside alarm clock to see how far into the morning the time had gone. “Twenty ‘til five.”

Michael “hrumph”-ed a sound of interest to show he was aware of what Brian was saying. “Wha’time’rya’goin’t’work?”

Brian reached down to begin to pick up and toss the pillows back on the bed. “I’m not going to work. Called Cynthia ... left a message on her voice mail to tell Gardner I was sick. I told her to count me out for tomorrow, as well. I’m not leaving until you’re in the clear.”

Absent mindedly, Michael pulled his weak limbs up to grab for a pillow, he buried his face in the plushness behind his head. He knew, once Brian did what he needed to, coming back to bed, he could replace the fluffy cotton with the soft body he wanted in his arms. “ ‘Kay ... hurry back ...” In under three seconds, Michael was out again.

Poor baby! Brian sniffled out a giggle as he watched his best friend slip off into Dream Land. Michael’s imagination made for good images. Tentatively reaching out a hand, Brian brushed back those pliant raven locks he loved to touch. They were now drying, but still slightly moist from the sweat off Michael’s opening pores. Brian found he liked to explore Michael better when he was asleep, at his most vulnerable. The dark eyelashes curved to caress the flushed skin under the eyes. A pinch of baby fat still remained adhered to the matured, manly facial cheeks. Enough for Debbie to grab onto when she cooed her loving words at her son. Brian lost his easy smile as he eyeballed Michael in slumber. It was at these moments when Brian had a difficult time dealing with his jealousy.

Pushing himself off the bed, Brian stomped off to relieve his anger elsewhere. If anything, their one rule for the bedroom was to leave stress and frustrations out of the bed. He was moving about cleaning up the mess they’d made in the living room, but also using the time to cool off. Brian had a very misunderstood battle with sleep. Not quite insomnia, but enough of a fear to cause him to only be able to cope with a few hours each night. As a child, the dreams had been fun and enjoyable as his ignorant naivety exploded into gruesome nightmares. He supposed it stemmed from hearing the “secret” conversations, kept hidden behind closed doors. His parents suppressed their frustrations at the world, upset with the follies that had become their life. Instead, they had to drag each other and their children down with them, filtering their inexcusable rages through the ears of the innocent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ****Not another f**king kid, Joanie! Why don’t you just get rid of it?!****  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Brian had heard these words on a ritual-like basis. Keeping him in-check to comprehend why he became the way he is ...

 **  
**

**==========tbc...==========**


	2. Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ****Jack Kinney’s mantra must have reverberated across to his cowering wife as she lovingly cupped the rounded mass of a growing fetus. Funny, she had come to their bed with love in her heart, still following the “duty” of being the Wife of this marriage. Joan harbored minor hatred for Jack, which would increase in small steps, over the years. The harsh words consistently echoed throughout the whitewashed walls of the middle class home of the hand of the hard-working laborer who saw his life, and those faultlessly cornered in it, as wasted energy.**

 **Jack’s approach to his family was ... terribly one-sided ... too much giving and an overabundance of taking. No one would ever understand his plight. Jack couldn’t even find the pride to boast about having a son. Brian wasn’t first born. He was just another friggin’ mouth to feed on a minimum wage-based paycheck. Jack seemed to get a sinister joy out of destroying his family’s simplistic ideas of happiness. Shit! Happiness was a huge, freakin’ money tree growin’ in the front yard! Time doesn’t slow down when you find yourself bein’ dragged into a hot, sweat-drenched church, praying to the great Lord above to save your ass. When will you be heard? And how will you know when you do finally get heard?****  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
His heart speeding up at the flowing thoughts plaguing his mind, Brian found himself needing to sit down to catch his breath. He plopped down on one of the bar stools, resting his forehead on the drawn up arms on the counter.

Gather your shit together, Kinney! It’s been over nearly thirty fuckin’ years! You act like it still hurts you ... Brian evened his breathing in bursts of breaths ... Yeah, it did ... pretty fuckin’ pathetic! These were the exact demons that chased him during the night, following him into his bed. Except they definitely didn’t stay long when Michael was near. They appeared to be afraid of Michael, or maybe it was that Michael made him forget all the bad stuff to focus on what made him smile more often.

Brian needed to straighten himself out, so he didn’t crawl into bed completely falling apart, yet again. The loft looked to be as clean as it would get this early in the morning. Brian was tired, yearning for sleep so he could find a way to join Michael in his flighty dreams. Somewhere where happiness and simple joy wouldn’t evade him any longer. He stood near the edge of the king-sized bed frame, watching Michael sleep. The envy seeped out of him. To be able to find comfort and solace in the uncontrollable world of the unconscious was something one needed to master. Brian had no idea if he’d ever reach the strengths that Michael kept atoning to.

Sleep was also Brian’s enemy because he couldn’t protect Michael as he could in the real world. Like clockwork, Michael began to fidget, as if he knew Brian had been away too long and his body was in desperate need of the close contact. Quickly undressing, Brian crawled under the comforter to lay near Michael. He didn’t want complete contact with the warm, inviting body until he had gotten his fill of making sure Michael was going to be fine and making DAMN certain he never held Michael when his darker side approached. So he decided to take the bunched fist of Michael’s right hand in his left hand. Entwining their fingers together, Brian pushed his face closer to blend their breathing and place their joined hands on his lips. Brian secretly desired a way he could dip his inherent filth in Michael’s subconscious, to enter into those dreams. Anything to get rid of the night shadows tempting him to fall back into their menacing embrace.

Beginning to trust in feeling safe, Brian began to shut his eyes, hoping sleep would claim him. Perhaps for more then just one hour, this time ... a sudden image soaked his fragile mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ****Brian had been just passing the Terrible Two stage and tending to smile more naturally at the great big world ahead of him. He knew he was making it through his toddler years only because he had been better then his playmates. Such drama queens, really! Adjust and adapt! Snap that diaper, quit your cryin’ with snot bubbles and play by the rules!****  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Brian shuffled his body closer to align with Michael. Problem was that his bed partner enjoyed spreading himself all over the mattress. Okay, so maybe Brian would now feel comfortable enough to tangle his own legs with Michael’s, the soft hairs on their legs brushed over heated flesh and tickled every so often. Brian opened his eyes to catch sight of a direct view of Michael’s half hidden face in the pillows. Feeling a deep love, Brian leaned forward to place a tiny kiss to the tip of Michael’s cute button nose. He kept his head near Michael’s, wanting the loyal connection of security. If he was going to dream, once his eyes were closed, Brian wanted to know that Michel was close by.

Soon, a clearer memory oozed into Brian’s foggy mind ... his last happy memory before reality set in ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ****Little Brian was sitting in a recycled high chair passed down from not only his sister, Claire, but from god forsaken church bazaar! Plenty of bare-assed baby cheeks had perched delightfully on the discolored plastic seat. The poor excuse for baby furniture was already showing the wear-n-tear of enough baby activity to squash a small pony. Little Brian didn’t care. Never cared one bit about much, really. He had a tune in his head that just wouldn’t quit. Something he had heard off the television. Little B was dancing to his own beat.**

 **Swish, crinkle ... Swish, crinkle ... Bonk! Bonk! ... and Splat!**

 **Uh, oh ... there went Little B’s sippy cup and the dish on the newly waxed floor Joan had redone early this morning. The tough plastic dishes bounced along the fading linoleum as Little B watched the food and red-colored juice splatter and squish in patterns like modern art undiscovered. Little B smiled secretly at his accomplishment, but his enjoyment his easily squelched as Jack thunders in finger-jabbin’ his devilish comments. He is attempting to push through the clouded mind of a child barely capable of understanding complete sentences much less a full-on tirade of volcanic proportions. All Little B can hear are single jolts ... NO! BAD! STUPID! And FAIRY! ... which were followed by red faces, tight grasps ending in the subtle, quick shakes of Little B’s unsuspecting body.**

 **He tries to smile at Joan, hoping for her motherly attention and support. She’s so burdened by her own pain and tears as she can’t believe she has to clean up the mess made seconds ago. Joan never sees the nudges of comfort Little B is trying to give her as his impish hand outreaches to grab onto her sweet, freshly-laundered cotton dress. Apologies are hard for him to say, since words can’t form on his lips, but the sentiment is there beyond her blindness. Little B grunts and moans, trying to escape the entanglement in the ugly high chair. Mommy . . .**

 **That frustrating moment of seeing his parents, but knowing they pretend he’s invisible grows on him. Little B has learned all too quickly what being alone in your own misery feels like. The scarey, dark-haired man, who gets angry all too easily, is hardly ever home any more. These moments are seized by Little B as he is allowed to roam free like the world had meant angelic souls, like him, to be. He can teeter-totter to his heart’s content, comfortable in the knowledge that nobody can stop him from exploring his domain. Little B has taken to walking on his own like he did in moving beyond his age barriers. Not so bad, really. Just had to shake hands with gravity and hoped you landed on a clean diaper. Except for those strange, dark moments that break up his joy. The Man is back.**

 **One word is always mentioned in his evil presence ... Daddy? Little B doesn’t have the ability to put names to faces, so he agrees to go with the flow and play the game. He doesn’t even know what the word “daddy” entails, or means. Little B only knows that when the Man is around, the house lulls to a hushed quiet.**

 **Claire giggles with the Man ... a lot.**

 **Something different happens to Mommy when the Man is near, which worries Little B. Why doesn’t she giggle like Claire?**

 **The license to walk on his own has been issued, for his “travelin’ shoes” have finally arrived, donated by the local church on a fund raising weekend. Just like the high chair thing, many a tiny foot has sweated in them, but Little B could care less. The shoes are now HIS and he is going to use them until the soles wear thin. This walking situation helps in getting places in his house. The crawling-thing was so ... ten minutes ago! Always hearing noises coming from other parts of the house, feeling like he’s missing something pretty “fun”, Little B would travel aimlessly hundreds of feet to check it all out.**

 **The plush carpeted living room holds the colorful box that shows the moving pictures that keep Little B in a trance each morning, over his bowl of bland, soggy cornflakes. Left to belt out a jingle, or groove to the music along with every one’s favorite Big yellow bird ... welcoming him to his famous street ... where everything’s A-OK. Each day he dreams of being on that very street, in its comfort of constant learning, laughter and love. As Little B steps in to enter his one sanctuary ... he instantly remembers he had left toys scattered about the floor, near the box.**

 **The Man is here ... relaxing in the big, comfy chair ...**

 **The usual right hand is extended over the arm, barely able to hold the short, thick glass of colored liquid. Little B has always thought it was juice, but juice usually didn’t make HIM act like it does for the Man. Little B is overwhelmed by the heavy stench of smoke, rich tobacco wafting from a cigar resting in a ceramic dish Claire made. He hesitates in the doorway, holding onto the cheap, bumpy plaster of the wall, as he makes a final decision to make a mad dash to rescue his Tonka toys and G.I. Joes. Quick and easy. Simple. The sooner the toys were put away, the less chance the Man had of tripping over them, later on in the night. Usually after he had more of the “juice”. Little B wished he could remember to clean up after playing, save him the added trouble of bothering the Man.**

 **“What! No way! No f**kin’ way!” The man screeches, sitting forward in His Chair.**

 **Little B is stunned by the cheering, and muted applause, coming out of the box as two sporting teams run after a sad, little oval ball. Every time the Man watches this stupid show it seems to anger him more, as he tries to convey his wishes to the men across the moving screen.**

 **“Come on, boys! What are you ... f**king fairies?! F**king fags! Prancin’ about in your pritty, little costumes, hopin an’ prayin’ ta score another touchdown?! Friggin’ butterfingers! Hold on to the damn ball once you got it!” The Man always seems to know what to say to the men inside the box.**

 **As the rage ensues, Little B finds an opportunity to make the mess disappear, unnoticed. Gone in a flash! Lickety split! Except ... when the Man has spotted him slinking his way back along the couch.**

 **“Hey! Sonnyboy! C’mere!” The Man crooked his finger in added conviction.**

 **Uh ... oh. What to do. As Little B turns on his new/old, flat soled, squeaky shoes, he faces the Man directly, but at a safe distance.**

 **“Didja hear me?! I says ... c’mere.” This is when the “juice” is most fun, as it seems to have taken the Man’s lips away. He couldn’t talk too clearly.**

 **Little B wanders closer, as near as his courage will allow. His tiny body quivers, and trembles, because he never knows how the Man will react, or treat him. Especially since he was angry only seconds ago. Quiet, with his head down, soft brown locks, straight as an arrow, fall over his forehead where tiny beads of sweat have gathered. Little B marches toward the Man, cuddling his toys to his chest. He knows what to expect next. Like each night before, the Man will find a way to scare him ... ruthlessly tease him ... harshly jostle him to send him back on his ass. He knows then the Man will watch as he makes Little B crumble to his soft backside. Probably still trying to get over a spanking from a few days ago. If anything, Little B thanks God for the cushioning.**

 **The Man is lost in his own arrogance, cackling his laughter, as he enjoys the simplicity of causing fear in his son’s eyes and making him into a “man”.**

 **Poked at, prodded by and ultimately made fun of by the Man they call, Daddy. Those strong, weathered, work-roughed hands have never shown Little B an ounce of gentleness. A tender caress to wash away tears and pain. Seal the hurts like a Mommy’s touch could.**

 **Little B is more hurt this time, then any other. He has learned cruelty.**

 **Claire, Little B’s older sister craves the Man’s attention. She can darn well have it all! He couldn’t care one bit. At certain moments, Little B wondered why he was disliked so much. So bothersome for something he had no control over. Then, after a few years, he began to not care, dissatisfied with no response from this God Mommy talked about. Little B soaked up the abandonment. The Man was different around Claire, smiled and laughed more as she held onto him with her trusting hands. Little B was slightly envious ... but glad for the relief ...**

 **Little B’s accomplishments are sacrificed for the more appreciated, and grateful, daughter, who was oblivious to her siblings plight. She’d go on to feel this way even through her mature years. When alone, Little B would wonder over the words consistently spoken to him by the Man. Never loving, always hating. He attempted kindness, but was shoved away, thought of as ridiculous and funny. Not exactly hilariously funny, but ... feminine and fairylike. Little B paid close attention ... on some nights, hidden under the stairs ... to words, like tiny daggers, that strike at his belly and made him sad ... to have someone wish he had never been born ...****  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
 _**“NEVER BEEN BORN ...”** _

Brian opened his eyes to watch Michael move across the mattress to burrow into the welcoming, loving embraces that would always wait for him.  
 ** _  
“ ...WISHED YOU HAD NEVER BEEN BORN ...”_**

The tiny phrase continued to battered Brian’s troubled thoughts. Why he hated the night and avoided sleep. Somehow holding Michael in his arms relieved the power Jack no longer had over him. Occasionally, Brian would recollect his childhood, but those days should be forgotten. That’s where Michael came in.

If Brian had never received the answer he was wanting to explain WHY he had been born ... the man laying tucked to his body was reason enough.

 **Fuck you, Jack!**

Brian flipped onto his back, pulling Michael to lay across his chest. He was now more confident in letting go of his fears to find peace within dreams ... if that was possible ...

Adjusting his arm around Michael’s shoulder blades, Brian played with the soft ebony locks matted to the head laying on his shoulder. Unconsciously, Michael wrapped his arms underneath Brian’s body and further tangled their legs wanting to find a perfect niche to fall asleep in.

Closing his eyes tightly, Brian hoped for better dreams ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 ****Words once said in darkened hallways of long ago, echoed in my head. Never Been Born, you say? Well, kindly step aside, you won’t mind if I surpass you. Making my good grades, winning awards and scholarships, Old Man. For you are gettin’ a lot older each year. I see it more in your eyes and face. Hard life, some would say, but I clearly see it as the world you’ve created. Your own mess and now it’s pissing you off. Sad and pathetic, Old Man? Look in the mirror.**

 **I can succeed where you failed. I can, you know. I’m smarter, stronger and a whole lot better looking. Plenty of people think so, have told me so. They know I can move onto bigger, better things. My brain has become a sponge to the thousands of “alone” moments you gave me. Away from you. Away from your inexplicable hate and irrational dislike. I’m even meeting new people. Older then me, but younger then you. They like me even more and see potential in me you won’t admit exists. This “burden” you’ve drummed up is yours. I can no longer hold your problems, because they are not mine to deal with.**

 **My brilliance is legendary. I could always fly by the seat of my pants. I never had to open a text book in all my years at school. My mind is adept and sharp. Knowledge is my constant companion. Learning was how I survived. I learned from doing ... not struggling and bemoaning my lot in life, like you. Yeah, your life is over. Had already been over before you died because you let go. You see, Jack ... the one person you tried to “pin” all your failures on ... became a success! Can you handle that, Jack?!**

 **I was ... BAD?! ... STUPID!? ... LAZY?! A FUCKIN’ FAIRY?! A FUCKIN’ FREAK OF NATURE?! A friggin’ queer because I liked being alone in my room, in my own solace? Why call me that? Because I could live by my own rules? Hell, I don’t need you. I might have needed you once, in my ultimate creation, but you were always replaceable. It was your fuckin’ responsibility to make a lasting impression on my life, but NOT the way you mustered through it. I haven’t needed you since I was born. What have you ever given to me? Except a wasted childhood ... and a complicated youth. Call me all the fuckin’ names you feel like, Pop! Pucker up, old man ... I can always disappear out of your life ... except ...**

 **Except when HE entered ... the day Michael Charles Novotny became a part of my twisted world.**

 **How this happened I will never be able to explain fully. I had been noticing this quiet, geeky boy around the halls at the junior high. I had caught him plenty of times checking me out ... staring at me, intently, beyond his thick lenses and black frames. His dark hair was never out of his face. Always hanging over his pale forehead like a blanket of protection. I can tell he feared me. Then his false bravado began to overshadow his nerves and he scampered off, lost in the crowded halls.**

 **One day I noticed him in my science class, slinking over test tubes and chemicals. Just to scare him, I joked about makin’ cherry bombs in my old school. Gettin’ away with murder under adult supervision. He only had to glare at me once, before the apology was out of my mouth. See, I had been talking while the teacher’s monotone lecture was going on. I didn’t think anyone was actually paying attention.**

 **“Do you mind shuttin’ up, now?” The dark locks drooped over his glasses in an annoying way that made me want to brush them back. His brown eyes intensified in their plain color and I was floored by their beauty. He used a single finger to push up the hulking frames along his nose. They had a penchant for sliding down when he moved one inch or more.**

 **“Sorry. I didn’t know you were actually listening to his sorry ass.”**

 **“You’re not shuttin’ up. I can still hear you.” He whispered over his shoulder as the surrounding classmates chuckled and giggled at the smooth comment. He clearly wasn’t going to pay attention to much of anything if I was nearby.**

 **“Shuttin’ up now.” I played like I locked up my lips and threw away the key in the air.**

 **“Good.”**

 **“Great!”**

 **“Alright!”**

 **“Fine!”**

 **“Will you stop?!”**

 **“Will you get a friggin’ grip?!” I should have known I had gone too far.**

 **“BOYS!!” Uh, oh. We were busted. “Is there a problem?”**

 **We both were feeling embarrassed at being acknowledged in the open. I smiled easily toward the teacher, as my new friend went to bury his head in his book bag. I knew Mr. Taylor from when Claire went to school here ... and he “knew” me, by reputation alone. He thought he knew me, as all the teachers and faculty did. “Nope. We are just dandy, Ernest. Thanks for carin’, man.” Okay, so maybe using Mr. Taylor’s first name had been a bad idea.**

 **“Mr. Kinney, I thought we had agreed to not use our Smart Tone when making comments. Do you want me to send you to the Principal’s office again?”**

 **I liked most of my teachers, but when a male, from the outside world, talked to me in that voice that reminded me of Jack, I got a little perturbed. There could be only one Jack. “Well, ... Gosh, Ernie ... I haven’t seen Harry in ... what,” I rolled my wrist to glance at my watch. “ ... almost sixteen hours. Would be a shame to keep him waiting for our lunch date.” I moved to collect my things, jacket and smokes ... but HE stopped me.**

 **“Stop it! What are you doing?” Over his bag, my new friend kept his head averted from Mr. Taylor as he whispered loudly enough for me to hear.**

 **“I’m winning.” I reached a hand up to place on his thin shoulder. I received a jolt of energy up my arm that left me slightly breathless. “Don’t ever let them know they’ve won.” I gave him a direct shot to the eyes. Seeing his liquid brown eyes for the first time, close up, with those delicate girly lashes, made my own widen in wonderment. A tiny grin lifted his mouth as I winked at him before exiting the room. I hoped this wasn’t the last time we would meet. I would liked to have known his name. This worried me, because I had thought I could get through another school year without having to care about another human being, except myself. There was something about him, though, that triggered in me a familiarity. Of needing simple human contact. Of knowing you had a good friend to call on when the chips were down.**

 **So I did it ... I ran into him ... literally ...**

 **I was running down the flight of stairs as he was coming up the steps lost in some frantic scurry for freedom. He didn’t look where he was going and plowed straight into my chest. By no means was I a beefy kid, but the contact forced him to lose his footing, tumbling us both to the ground. I saved his nerdy butt from hitting the floor. Notebook paper, folders and their ilk flew through the air like lead weight, scattering across the landing. Books once neatly stacked in his arms were flattened, found unended and open, creasing the fragile pages. Again, I found myself, flat on my ass, like when I was little. Gravity deceiving me.**

 **I was crab-like on the school’s tiled floor, about ready to punch this kid’s lights out, because he’s making Jack wait longer for me outside, with the car running idle. I suddenly realize who I’ve got laying on me. My new friend from science class. The one kid who had some sass in his voice, but then quickly showed he hadn’t wanted me to get into trouble . He was spastically trying to make apologies as he went about collecting all his fly-away clutter. His poor excuse for a school bag had fallen apart. He had been running around like a boy without a locker.**

 **I can barely move because while he scampered about, fluttering his hands ... he managed to touch me once, or twice, along my inner thighs and even down my flat abdomen. He constantly asked me if I was fine, while brushing imaginary dust off.**

 **The sight of those droplets of salty tears running down his pale cheeks has torn me up. We can’t have hit that hard to make him this much of an emotional wreck.**

 **“Hey!” I grabbed for his puny biceps, in my hands, forcing him to remain still. He tried to not call attention to his tears. “Breathe in ... and breathe out.” I slowly show him how it’s done, but he’s lost in some kind of girly emotional pit, blubbering about something I can barely understand. He’s obviously hurting, but it’s not visible to me. “Get a grip, man! Shit can’t be that bad!” Another wrong thing I’ve allowed to exit my smart mouth. It made him stop crying, so maybe I was right.**

 **“What the fuck do you know?!”**

 **I was knocked backwards by the passion in him. His voice cracked, which informed me he had been scared, frightened, all this time. He didn’t want the torment anymore. I knew he was at the end of his rope for the day, because I had been there dozens of times with Jack. I was both jealous and envious. His training had just begun. His new feet planted firmly, while I had been able to grow numb to the expected disappointment I perpetuated. Usually, I would have pushed him aside, my shield up and moved on to something better. With him, I could see no use in becoming the person I was steadily growing to hate.**

 **“Mikey!” A low, deep timbered voice reverberated up the stairs. “Is that your boyfriend?”**

 **I stared down the steps catching Brad Logan and his goons standing watch at the base of the staircase. Fuck heads! Jocks with no dicks! All talk and no action. I could attest to that for Brad’s one goon, Rodney Sellers. We had a moment last year during gym class when I caught Rodney admiring my backside. I let him blow me after school in the woods. I allowed him think it was the “best” BJ I had ever gotten, but he wouldn’t care to know the truth. His girlfriend would have, though. “Do you mind, boys?! We’re trying to have a private moment.” I pulled my new friend ... Mikey? ... into my arms, feeling all over his sunken chest. I played the obvious off as I noticed Rodney whisper a few words into Brad’s ear. The three of them nodded as a unit. I had never been more pleased to find that my reputation had finally worked in someone’s favor.**

 **“You’re lucky, Novotny. I’ll catch you later. And don’t forget my homework this time!” Brad seemed upset to not being allowed to mess with his “Mikey”.**

 **Standing up, I dragged Mikey to huddle under my protective arm. “You’ll have to get through me, first, Bradley.”**

 **Brad rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”**

 **“No, not whatever, Logan. Try fuckin’ never. Find someone else to do your school work. I’m sure among the three of you guys you’d be able to gather a few brain cells to muster a passing grade.” I turned to look down at Mikey to find he was staring at me, caught between shock, bewilderment and wanting to laugh his cute little butt off. “He’s all mine.”**

 **All three stomped off laughing their way down the hall.**

 **I knew, in the future, I would have to pay a price for saving Mikey. I was prepared. Boys my own age I found I was able to fight. Jack ... was a different story.**

 **Mikey was quite possibly the first person I wanted to like me. I didn’t know why, which drove me crazy. I liked him the minute he spoke up in science class. I began to adore him even more as he proved my reputation didn’t phase him. I laughed at his attempts at harshness. Never fit him. He looked too fragile and gentle. Easily breakable. He thought I was teasing him, but I was only finding some satisfaction in discovering the one person in the world more pathetic then I had been. His tenderness was my downfall. From that day of our friendship growing out of our unintentional meeting, I knew I didn’t have to pretend around him. Somehow, I had found my freedom ... my home.**

 **I was his only friend at school. I tried to shield his awkwardness from the other boys who knew him as an easy target. I had ways of protecting him from harm that would have made him a basket case. Broke a few noses, kicked a lot of asses and wrote down every single name that tried to come his way. The cool part about Michael Charles Novotny was that it didn’t take him too long to figure out what I had been doing. I didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me, one day, when he found me slumped outside behind the gym, keeping a towel plastered to my bloody nose and lip. I thought he’d gone home already. Brad showed up, looking for him, and I told him where he could stick his dick ... then proceeded to beat the shit out of him. The sweet janitor, Al, broke us apart sending us off, promising us he wouldn’t tell the Principal if we both went home, minding our own business. Al got Brad to promise to leave Mikey alone, while I promised not to open a can of whoop ass on Brad, or his fruity friends.**

 **I should’ve known the strange way Michael had been acting around me. He had discovered my secret identity. He began to tell me about The Captain. Captain Astro, to be exact. I thought how peculiar it was for him to have such an attachment to some comic book super hero. The Cap wasn’t even famous enough to have his own cartoon show, or a breakfast cereal on the market. What the hell did Michael get out of harboring affection for some unknown hero? I guess, in a way, after he found me ... Michael became my protector. I’d been so scared of Jack’s wrath if I went home. Bloody nose? Who gave that to you? Not me ... this time. So I went home with Michael. This began another level to our relationship that gave me the actual feeling like I had found my place in the world ... as I walked across the Novotny household. My true home.**

 **I was Michael’s savior. I suppose Michael had talked me up before I actually was able to show my face. Debbie fed me and hugged me in the same breath. It was the most love I have felt from a complete stranger, then from my own mother. Little did I realize how much I had been craving that kind of touch until I had been given it as freely as Debbie handed it out. She never cared about the way I looked. She just wanted to make damn sure I wasn’t gonna jerk her son around. Make certain this “friendship” was for real. Debbie told me about Michael’s biggest heartache ... never knowing his father.**

 **Debbie needed to know that I was strong enough to handle Michael should things get messy ... a little weird. I had no idea what she meant until the day I saw Michael’s room. Littered with clutter, comic books and posters of super heros. The wallpaper of his youth still adhered to the plaster of motorcycles and Cowboys. It should have clued me in to the fact that Michael had such loyalty to things he loved, but I was worrying he was obsessing too much. Michael loved with his entire being. Now, I knew what Debbie had been saying.**

 **Michael adored his absent father. Placed this complete stranger high above himself on the list of heroic men in his life. I was steadily moving up the chart. He was sincerely interested in knowing what Jack was like. He was fascinated by my home life. I had two parents and an older sister in high school. Michael was curious to what that looked like, smelled like, felt like and I hated disappointing him by the truth. What would he do to know that he was luckier then me? My family appeared perfect, but underneath I was ashamed to admit the darker side I wanted no one to know about.**

 **I sure as hell didn’t want Jack anywhere near Michael. He would be too easy a target for Jack. Michael didn’t give up so easily until someone folded or you peed your pants. I finally caved, deciding to start off slowly with Jack taking us bowling. I thought it was safe, away from the Kinney House of Horrors. I had forgotten that this was the night that Jack bowled with his league. Every Tuesday they opened the bar an hour early. Jack had a tough day at the mill and the beers he was sucking down helped pass the time away. I chose a lane for Michael and I as far away as possible from Jack and his friends. I could barely hear them in the distance. I knew Michael would be interested in being able to catch Jack in action. Michael wanted time to get to know Jack, like I had with Debbie. I couldn’t tell Michael that Jack could have cared less about making an impression.**

 **This same night I found that my feelings for Michael went deeper then I’d ever thought I could have for a male, friend or otherwise. No doubt I’d been sexually attracted to men, and boys, who had walked through my life, but always strangers. Never a friend.**

 **I had bowled a strike. I was happily drying my hands on the blower, trying to hold back the smirk on my face. I noticed Jack watching me as his team egged him on how funny it was that the strike gene must have skipped a generation. Shit! I was nervous. His penetrating gaze nailed my feet to the floor.**

 ****Can you do it again, buddy boy?** His challenge seemed to ask.**

 **I tried not to look at Michael, who was transfixed at staring to the end of the lane with a fist to his mouth. I waited patiently for my ball to return before I headed back down the alley. I’d forgotten the heavy pounder I had chosen to show-off with, nearly yanking my fingers out of their sockets. I did it, though. I raised that pretty marble finish to my pupil level, adjusted the sight, setting the ball down the center dot near my bowling shoes. Like it was being filmed in slow motion, the first pin went down as all the other pins crumbled beneath the weight.**

 **God DAMN! Another strike!**

 **Oh, Lordy! Michael went bonkers. He was screaming, hollering and jumping around like a winning contestant on the Price is Right.**

 **To everyone else, especially Jack and his teammates, Michel looked like a complete nerd, a fool and a freak. They went on to mimic and make jokes about his manners.**

 **As I watched Michael, I couldn’t help the small smile I allowed out as I soaked up his undivided attention. He was looking at me with those eyes. The ones I had always seen lighted up for the Captain. They were now for me. Michael was so proud of my simple accomplishment he ran over to hug me. Something in me wanted to show him that I was willing to accept so much more.**

 **Me. Brian Kinney. Bad ass and dangerous to know ... was completely melting inside for some fool named, Mikey.**

 **But he was My Mikey. My best friend. My only friend. My one constant supporter and companion of faith, love and devotion. The screams were filled with joy and excitement, not pain and agony. This was my first tender touch from a male counterpart. He was embarrassing me. His heart was too big for his little body. I was envious that he had that kind of power to wield. I wanted some of it. Badly ...**

 **So, I did it ... I took a fateful chance, stepped on a ledge and ... kissed him. He was silenced all too quickly by my selfish action. I was causing quite a stir around the other lanes. A kiss. A lip lock that I had only saved for my own hand or my pillow at night, dreaming of someone special who could take me away.**

 **I didn’t notice when Jack walked over. Barely able to stand, much less walk, he jostled over to us, poking in the air ... “ ... a couple of f**king fairies ...” Jack’s hand did a subtle movement that sent laughter through his attentive audience.**

 **Again, I felt like Jack was attempting to push me down. Hold me against the wall while pummeling me with his inner turmoil. Jack had no other recourse but to make fun of us. His crutch when he felt ashamed, embarrassed or slightly uncomfortable. Make the other person suffer. Anything seen out of line with his idea of the way things should be found smallish ... stupid. Squish the feeling right out of the moment.**

 **Fairies? Queer? Strange? Different? Distance?**

 **I was okay, but Michael didn’t know about Jack. Jack had hurt Michael. Crushed his kind spirit. I couldn’t have that, so I pulled away from Michael’s embrace, all too roughly and pushing with all my might. I nearly sent his poor, skinny body completely down the alleyway of our lane. He managed to grip onto the gutter. As I glanced down at Michael, who looked up at me with his beautiful wide chocolate brown eyes, I recognized the scene.**

 **This had been me, years ago. Flat on my ass, holding my toys to my chest. Questioning the undeniable hatred of an unloving father and a vacant mother who refrained from simple touch fading into her blissful disregard. I had vowed to myself to never be like Jack.**

 **I had just become my own nightmare. Causing hurt to Michael burned a fire in me to not duplicate Jack’s anger, especially at other people’s expense. I didn’t deserve the friendship he was offering me. Anything he gave me was unconditional ... his time ... his companionship ... his laughter and his love. He was a fool. Pathetic.**

 **How could I tell him that I wasn’t worth the efforts he made? In what way could I have told him to stay away?**

 **The only way I knew how ... distance. Give him just enough to be satisfied that I still wanted him to be around, but never more them I was prepared to give.**

 **See ... I’ve been taught by the best ...**

 **Thanks, Pop****  
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 **==========THE END==========**


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